Poems by PastaNazi

DopeBeastie

shoot, i'm wondering, and maybe fins/cass/dyao/phish could help me out on this...

but WHAT the heck is with LOVE that sends poetry to the orchard???

apples AND oranges???


please... I think the topic warrants some discussion

Being Enlightened

OR BANANAS!!!

ie.

Swallowed

Look so perfect
I remove your covering
Naked for all to see
Hold you in my hand
Even more enticing
Lick my lips with anticipation
Open my mouth
Take you in
So smooth on my tongue
A mouth full of sweet, sticky goodness
I swallow you down
Bit by bit
Inch by inch
Until you are completely consumed




And then throw away the peel



Shameless, I am, just shameless!

And yes, fins/cass/dyao/phish do need to expose their brilliant and lovely minds for discussion on this topic, I SO agree!

DopeBeastie

i like how when you squish a banana in the peel really hard, it oozes out all mashed from the splits in the seams...feels nice in the hand


:D:D:D:D

FinsburyParkCarrots

It ain't the fruit. It's the colour. Oh. Unless you're writing about apples. Then it's the fruit.

DopeBeastie

hmmm.... the color, yes... love I think is most definitely within the orange spectrum of things... apples, though... maybe it's just the sound of the word?

DopeBeastie

forever rolling re-absorbed
in spongy iris flower beds
salt logged, non-osmotic, bent
the phase change constant
creaking washed
showered
clean
and stand alone

in what mote
may I now swim
(perhaps i should but dig my own?)
nowhere in my trite repose
a literal and gaping whole
a dried up late spring waterhole

i smite my Siamese dream
as hard and as fast as it smites me
because today
it’s all it is

DopeBeastie

don't you shiver

DopeBeastie

external ganglia splayed and sprayed about the universe in every fucking direction except home (WHERE I LIVE!). quite sad, really, when i think about how many exposures it takes to catch a man picking his nose, checking it out, then deciding it'd be better between his teeth than wiped on his pantleg. mmmmm, salty. like tiny escargot that don't cost a mother-fucking dime.

but, i digress...
forgive?

external ganglia frayed, praying for a quelude, anything, some thing to start the reel reeling in the right direction (where I live)....
ever notice how much a fish brain remembers? quite sad, really, when i think about how many exposures to fake presentations they endure... the scents designed to elicit a strike so some jerkwad with clean pants can feel like a man.

but, i digress...
again
interesting?

externally ganglial umbili-cords ignored, cautered,
fall off and rot in the noon-day sun

a kiss goodbye to my deprived
a kiss goodbye to my deprived

DopeBeastie

makes for a good day
counting the ways
this quiet love shines
while my dinner-bell judgment
sulks in a corner somewhere
with nothing to do
nothing to react to

i can sit
in peace
and smile


"so... this is what it's like to be an adult?"

i wont throw myself from a cliff, declaring
I LOVE!!! YA-HOOOOOOOOOOOU!!!

when i can snuggle up
in your ethereal lap
my ethereal nose
scents your down-nestled calm


be at peace
this day my love
continued grace
rise above

coleen

"be at peace
this day my love
continued grace
rise above"



i am humming this softly as a prayer
*a flower for you*

DopeBeastie

if i keep kissing on you, coleen, the boys are going start lookin'


so what?


kisses to you
in spite of
and in front of
all of 'em

DopeBeastie

May, 2003

We Think Not

Suppose Heaven is Void.
A black, swirling anti-matter.
Synapses loose, souls not even bouncing.

Suppose Heaven is space,
and that space is too great,
too wide, no, too roomy to encounter God.

Would we, in all our thought-processed souls, embrace that existence entirely whole?
Would sometimes we scream for the flesh-gravity that held us so tightly to our little lives?
Where in between humming a John Denver song, elbow deep in dish soap clouds,
we watched salt-free tears hit the streets of our dreams.

We think not.

Now suppose that Heaven’s the Promise.
The Promise beat down on the Rock of the Ages,
thumped down upon the Good Book's thin pages
and filling the minds of mild wild-eyed Christians?
Suppose, if you must, that Heaven’s been told, in total.
That Man’s greed-colored glasses left out no bold detail.
The streets of gold, the gossamer wings,
the manna to each little black sinner’s dreams.

In all of these quaint suppositions, now I
should hope that my entry to Heaven’s more like
a quick digital pulse of the passion to head
my arms splayed,
with little bright stars in each hand
my eyes opened now,
and absorbing the glory
of everything God’s ever given to Man.

And then, hush now, in the following calm,
a blush and a breeze on my left ear soft whispers

every tear
you never cried
saved someone's life.

coleen

is there anything you can't write about? i think your soul is too roomy to see all there is to you. you are an inspiration.

btw, i'm not saying that just for the hugs and kisses - though they are always appreciated.

hugs to you.

FinsburyParkCarrots

Pasta is our reigning poet in chief at the moment, closely followed by Yellow.

coleen

fins don't ask me to choose favorites, i think my tiny brain would explode.

Yellow

ummmm....




pasta sucks compared to me!

DopeBeastie

goddamned goof ball....






k


no, seriously - gracias mi amigos, muchas gracias

DopeBeastie

Originally posted by coleen
is there anything you can't write about? i think your soul is too roomy to see all there is to you. you are an inspiration.

btw, i'm not saying that just for the hugs and kisses - though they are always appreciated.

hugs to you.

there are, in fact, SOME things I can't write about, LOL...

i wrote a poem about it, wanna see? :D:D:D

gawd, i'm a dork, yeah? x number of votes from me say "hell yeah you are!!!" , or... I am... or


aaahhhhh fuggit...


HUGS

FinsburyParkCarrots

You the bestest, PastaNazi,
bestest bestest bestest.

:D:D

bambi girl

damn you pastanazi....i have alot of reading to catch up with you! hehe....



*reads for hours apon hours....*